A goodbye for a kitty

Many of you will know that we said goodbye to our "firstborn" cat, Taffy, yesterday August 5th. When we adopted her in 2011, she was the subject of many pictures and much doting. Mater's arrival just a couple of weeks later only increased the photos, and while she was an adorable kitten and Taffy a full grown cat, their unique appearances made us love each of them for their quirks and unique qualities.

Taffy was always reluctant to cuddle with Mater, but the little grey kitty eventually figured out that if she bathed her "Momma's" head, she'd acquiesce, sometimes even for a quick nap.

Several weeks after we adopted her, we got a call from the shelter that had housed Taffy before she came home to us, saying that her paperwork had been switched with another cat up for adoption (and who was still available). It turned out that her "real" name was Smoochie, and that the other cat was the one actually called Taffy. We chose to keep her name. I'm sure that she earned the name "Smoochie" for the way she unabashedly walked up to any newcomer showing any sign of slight interest and would rub her head on their leg (or hand, or foot...really anything that would give a good rub).

RIP - September 5th, 2017

Michael and I once (or maybe several times...in any case, always the same result!) tried "walking" Taffy around our apartment complex in Georgia. She insisted on walking backwards, and eventually gave up in the confusion the harness set her to and laid down in the middle of the sidewalk. Here you can see me, fresh from the poolside, with her in a rare moment of uprightness on one such attempt at a promenade.


On a few occasions early on (and before Mater, I think), we took her for a ride in the car, where she enjoyed sitting on the armrest in the backseat.
 

Over the years, Taffy was a trooper through multiple moves and various living situations. Her and Mater rode with me across country in Michael's former Toyota 4Runner as he drove the moving van. They did well in the make-shift (but quite fancy!) "portapotty" that Michael and our friend Jason put together with a piece of particle board and an oversized travel carrier/crate meant for a dog...until the last day, we had a serious "accident" that resulted in some less-than-pleasant clean-up. At least we knew without a doubt that that had to be the day we got to Camano, despite the long 12-hour drive it entailed.

One of the fancier "pet friendly" hotels that we lodged at on our trip from GA to WA in February 2013.

Taffy and Mater looking out the window of our Ballard apartment on a moving box. They used to glare at a neighbor kitty that, ironically, was black and mischievous. Little did they know Mr. Larry would soon come along...

She always knew how to find a good "spot". (Here, in our closet in Ballard.)

It wasn't until Larry came along that Taffy finally got her "freedom". A third cat in our relatively small house in Lynnwood really stretched our patience, and finally Michael convinced me to let the cats outside. Eventually, Larry did get hit and we had to say goodbye to him, but in the meantime he forced Taffy to become more adventurous than ever. She loved sunning herself in the actual sun, not in an air-conditioned apartment in GA or a sunny window in Ballard. Her last weeks with us, she spend much of her time nestled under the hedge near our boat, and we buried her there as it seemed a fitting final resting place.

Until she started going outside, Taffy was my constant companion during study and time at my desk. She always wanted to get as close as she could for a nap. And, much of the time, that was just fine with me.

"Reading."

Taffy and Mater both (along with most cats, I assume) would go tummies-up as soon as the sun got warm enough. Here is one of the best photos I got of this "premium cooling" position:

The night before we put her to sleep, Taffy slept on me for several hours. She hadn't done this in a very long time, and later in the day I realized she had probably been saying goodbye and "I'm ready to go, Momma". Her favorite place to sit on me was my shoulder when I was lying on my side, but since I was never able to get a good photo of that (for obvious reasons), here is one of her and Mater one naptime a few years ago:

We miss this sweet, tiny cat terribly. The past year, she had been a bit of a pest and we were quite fed up with her at times, but I know that she loved her life coming in and out of the house and always having Mater to whip into shape. She was our first "baby", and will forever be in our hearts. Rest in peace, Taffy.

A long July

This month will almost certainly be the busiest of Michael's and my year. While most of the scheduled events and activities were ones that I was involved in for my dissertation work and/or teaching, they necessarily involve additional care and organization from Michael, particularly given my being away from home for nearly two full weeks. He also had to end that time with a 4.5 hour flight with Jonathan from Seattle to Minneapolis, followed by a couple more days traveling with him. All in all, everything has gone off without a hitch. We are currently in our last day of "vacation" in Duluth, and I am struggling to feel relaxed and with whether this is just par for the course traveling with a very discombobulated toddler or whether it is because I struggle to keep an open mind and flexible attitude, even in circumstances that clearly require those things.

For the first week of my trip, I was in Urbana-Champaign, Illinois, participating in a dissertation/article writing institute with 28 other participants from across the world and across the disciplines. We came from 6 countries and many more states, though many fun and more "local" connections were also discovered. I myself met a Professor from Whitman College in Walla Walla who had been at a conference hosted by the University of Washington just two months ago, and in which I also participated. The common thread that we all shared coming into this institute was a shared interest in the "field" of Animal Studies, or, within this specific context, Human-Animal Studies. For those of you not as well-versed in the academic world or academic categorizations like these two terms, we all work with some form of ethics and concern for animals, with varying degrees of political, social, and cultural implications that those words are able to encompass depending on their context. Our work ranged from social scientists researching the impact of our attitudes towards FRACKing on animals to those doing fieldwork in slaughterhouses in Israel to visual artists who spend much of their lives working with and living near a small cow farm, fully integrating these animals into their work, and many many scholarly projects inbetween and beyond. Each day, we spent three hours in the morning workshopping three individual projects, and in the afternoon usually had one or two plenary speakers (=lectures from various points in the field). There were several activities including a visit to a goat dairy farm 20 minutes outside of Urbana-Champaign, begun several years ago by two retired professors who had dreamed of living a different kind of life for decades. In many ways, it was a lower level of what many of us might dream of as our professional (or personal) "utopia". On the other hand, we were all exhausted and drained by the schedule and the subject matter that, by and large, is relentless in its ability to maintain a constant baseline of hopelessness and sadness into all discussions. Having said that, one does tend to find strength in numbers, and even though we weren't fighting a war or waging an active protest for social justice - the kind of place you might expect to find the term, as opposed to a week of writing workshops - and so we also found ourselves experiencing many moments of renewed strength and energy for the journey. Most of us, I believe, assume that the various journeys upon which we have each embarked for each project will likely last our lifetimes, and perhaps beyond. We established relationships that we all hope to continue and had conversations that revealed layers in our work and others' that we hadn't ever considered. I'm sure that we all feel we've come away with what many of us were referring to as a great "toolbox" for moving each of our projects forward, and that is something that you can't put a price on.

The day after the conference wrapped up, I headed back up to Chicago to spend a few days in my favorite city in the States. One of my housemates from the years I spent there still lives in the same house, and I was lucky enough to be able to stay there, in the neighborhood with which I remain surprisingly familiar. It was really fun to reconnect with a few of the faces and places with whom and in which I spent so much time. However, I found myself in a constant state of unrest and indecisiveness. With only two full days in town, things went fast. On Monday, I was fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time and received tickets on the field at Wrigley to see Bonnie Raitt and James Taylor live. It was a concert I never would have dreamed I'd get to attend, let alone with that good of seats. Really an amazing experience. I spend a day shopping, something that I have needed to do for various reasons for several months but have just not had the time to. Chicago is a fun city to shop in. I met up with a friend who I met as she finished her M.A. in the program I attended at UIC, and who is now an Assistant Professor and Director of French Studies at Depaul University after completing her PhD in 2016. It is both frightening and encouraging to visit with those who have walked the path we are on and are succeeding - these days, it seems that too often I have the experience of meeting those who are struggling to find a job in the field they worked so hard to train for.

During these first two legs of my trip, I missed Michael and Jonathan terribly. I only Facetimed with them once, and wasn't able to talk much on the phone with them since Jonathan gets upset when he can't hold the phone, but also isn't really talking much yet, himself. It was good in that it reminded me how special he is and how deeply rooted together the three of us are. The toddler stage is probably my favorite and the hardest thus far, and Jonathan is full in the "terrible twos", albeit a bit before the age of 2. We were all reunited on Wednesday in Duluth, Minnesota, where we will attend Jonathan's godfather's wedding later this afternoon.

The past few days, we have been welcomed into our friend's home. He is one of 9 kids, and several of them are married with kids. It has been a happy madhouse, and so different from the houses we grew up in and have been around in an area where 2 or 3 kids is much more common than the number of families over 5 we have encountered in our short time here in Minnesota. So it has been fun to watch Jonathan interact with the kids, who range from 4 months to 6 years old, and to get to know the family ourselves as they have welcomed us in as an extended addition to their sweet home. The challenge has been the hotel. Of course, we are all three in one room, and it's a very spacious room! But Jonathan is off in timezone and mind, following our reunion and being immersed suddenly in so many new faces and places. We have all struggled to get any sleep. Last night, Michael was fortunate to get to spend several hours with the guys and the groom as they gave him marital advice and enjoyed time together. Unfortunately, it meant a very late (or early, as it were) return to the room and that I was up worried when his phone had died and he was no longer responding to my texts. All in all, today I have not been a positive person and I have been wishing I was at the Halverson house instead of stuck here trying to pack my suitcase that seems to, strangely, have shrunk since my departure on July 8th. We'll have to leave tonight after the wedding, so I am pushing back anxiety about Jonathan having a class 5 meltdown and getting any sleep whatsoever.

Monday, my former French roommate and her boyfriend arrive at our home for 5 days of Seattle visiting, so the month isn't over, yet! Prayers are greatly appreciated...!

Greetings from a butterfly

Yesterday marked 17 years since my godfather passed away. I didn't really celebrate or mark it in any particular way, other than sharing a post from last year that seemed to invoke the sentiments I always hope to in his memory. However, this morning, I realized that David was trying to say hello to me yesterday, despite my lack of acknowledgment of his passing.

When Dave passed, Kathy, my godmother, and myself began to share the idea that he had become a butterfly. His lifeless body was no longer and he was now a beautiful creation, the one he had been made for by God from the day he was born. Since 2000, she and I have exchanged various cards and tokens featuring butterflies, and each time I see one, I usually think of Dave and even say hello. Yesterday, Jonathan was literally fixated on one page in his book "I Am A Bunny". My mom and I assumed he was just worn out and getting obsessed because it was nearing bedtime. He begged to have us bring him his Hungry Caterpillar dinner plate to compare what he was looking at on the board book page with one of the pictures on the plate. Eventually, he had his bath, we read other books and sang, said our prayer, and he went to sleep peacefully.

This morning, I realized that he had been fixated on the butterflies. I sure miss you, David. And "hello" right back.

How a John Mayer song led me to [a kind of] veganism

It seems that it is now 100% normal for me to go several months inbetween posts, and I think it's about time I am okay with that. I follow a couple of mostly-full-time bloggers on things like Instagram and Facebook, and am continually inspired by them, but the fact is, one massive writing project is pretty much all I think we're made to handle at once (at least until we've finished one successfully, then, who knows!). So I'm trying to allow that inspiration to come without jealousy, which is a hard thing to admit feeling when I have so many amazing people and circumstances in my own life.
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Lately, I have been doing some changing and shifting. About two and a half months ago, John Mayer released "Wave 2" of his "The Search For Everything" album, now out in full on iTunes (not that he needs the promotion). I didn't pre-order, but did buy it the day it came out and proceeded to play it while getting Jonathan dressed that morning. Frankly, I didn't love all the songs on this new offering. I have warmed to some of them since I've seen him perform them in Vancouver in April and have allowed them to "seep in", as music is so wont to do in our selves and our souls. One song, however, hit me like a freight train at that moment, and I do believe inspired some of the shifts in thinking and living that I've undertaken since - though these had been percolating long before I heard it.

Called "Changing", this song speaks of how John (as I always assume an artist writes themselves in their music, though there are many songs that are not autobiographical, I'm sure) is still changing, and he isn't done changing yet. The lyrics are quite simple, and circulate around this simple word and its different formulations in a way that probably bores some listeners. For me, though, it spoke loudly and clearly.

I have listened to John Mayer's music since his first album hit stores and my dad bought it for me, thinking this artist might be something special. Room For Squares remains one of my favorite albums to this day, and as Mayer has continued to write, evolve, fail, and try again (many songs of his in those words, there!), I have watched and learned from his journey. While I can't say I'm an expert in his biography, it's quite public knowledge that, about 5 years ago, he suffered from the illness that I will in no technical terms describe as "losing one's voice"...literally from overworking and performing. Adele experienced the same thing around the same time. Basically, it seemed as though it might be the end, and as I listened to the album of his that came out around the same time, Born and Raised, I was deeply saddened both for him and the many who would miss his thoughtful songs and mellow, soothing voice. As I'm writing this out, I'm wondering if I have the time progression right here, and whether Born and Raised didn't come out immediately following his return...anyway, the facts remain the same. Apologies to those of you who are more avid fans that I reading this. Over the years, Mayer has been involved with several famous ladies and made a bit of a reputation as a "bad boy". His infamous interview with Rolling Stone (I still haven't read it, once again showing my lack of care to the details) was one that he would write about in a song, turning it into a pun and showing how he realized he'd said some things he shouldn't have. All of this to say: John Mayer's life journey is one that has had some very tangible and public ups and downs.

After he became ill, Mayer moved out to Montana, and disappeared from view of pretty much anyone in the media or who didn't have a personal invitation. Last year, he began releasing parts of this new album, the first in many years and one that was accompanied with much hype amidst his fans. The announcement of his first tour in ages was met with huge excitement and anticipation on social media, and I began to think about the possibility of seeing him perform again (the first time was following Heavier Things, also in Vancouver, when Maroon 5 opened for him - yes, you read that right, they opened). But nothing had as much impact, even his concert, as that song (which he also performed, much to my joy).

When I heard "Changing", I realized that it was time for some changes, and also time to acknowledge that we are ALL "still changing", and will continue to do until the day we leave this earth for the next.
Around the time of the concert this year in April, I started thinking about (and quickly decided that it was what I wanted) becoming vegan. Or, at least, for the most part. As many of you reading this will know, Michael has been doing more hunting as time has gone one the past few years. Thus far, he's gotten two deer. We have a good friend in Duvall who raises pigs each year, and we buy half of one for ourselves at a ridiculously good price for meat that is truly pasture raised, and even, I would say, "well loved". We crab each summer and Michael also loves fishing. All of this to say, my decision remained more complicated than I wanted it to be. I was firm, however, on my omission of dairy and eggs unless someday we were to raise our own cows and chickens (the latter is really the only one I'm open to, at this point...!). This really wasn't going to be a massive leap, as I already ate little meat and rarely drank milk outside of a coffee cup. The eggs, well, that would be hard. But I was mentally all in.
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Loosely documented here on the blog is my journey in my academic work towards and into what is called Animal Studies. It has recently come to my attention that perhaps this is not something that most people - in or out of academia, to be frank - actually understand what that means. I usually follow up the statement, "I work in 19th Century French Literature and Animal Studies" with that of "It's essentially Animal Ethics". This, however, is likely not much clearer to those not already working in one of those fields. Some days, I'm not even 100% sure what it means. But suffice it to say, here, that by beginning work in this field I have learned much of the horrific ways in which our food is raised - produced, really - and as a Christian have felt deeply convicted of making changes in my life. This translates into what I eat and the products I use - so basically, almost everything I buy. Michael has been on-board with this transition, and we've worked together to try to avoid "bankrupcy" in these endeavors (not sure people our age or with as few major assets as ourselves can even use that term). We have grown and learned a lot together.

All of this is said to show why it seemed a pretty natural progression to go [mostly] vegan. Just like my decision, I pretty much went all in from Day 1. My grocery trips were both exciting and terrifying, as I attempted to transition myself without derailing Michael and Jonathan, neither of whom would be making the [full] journey with me. (Having said this, Michael has been gracious in trying all the new recipes, and humoring me on days when I forget to prepare a meat add-in and he's "stuck with" a meatless meal.) I confided in friends who I knew and trusted at school that were longtime vegans, admitting my angst about the new grocery game and the challenges of baking vegan (things don't turn out the same, nor are they meant to!). It was exhausting but I was generally enjoying it and feeling like it was doable.
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Last Monday, I had a deadline and I planned to spend close to 8 hours at school by taking an early bus in, before coming back north to go to the gym before picking up Jonathan. Over the weekend, I'd experienced some gas and discomfort, but just thought it was normal stuff that would pass as I slept. Monday morning, however, I woke feeling fatigued and still nauseated off and on. I got myself to the bus and to campus, and was able to meet the deadline that I had that day. However, in the meantime I had chills and the fatigue persisted, along with the on-again, off-again nausea. While this was relieved periodically, I overall just felt crummy. The gym was off the table by 11am.

As the day progressed, I was confused. I had no idea what had caused this. The new veggie burgers I'd tried over the weekend had no ingredients that I could suspect being the origin of such an extreme reaction, and I'd eaten nothing else new. I got home in the afternoon and laid down. That was when I realized that I might know what was causing much of it: iron deficiency. Now, before you jump to the conclusion that I then realized that I needed to switch back to an all red-meat diet because no one can possibly get enough iron on a plant-based diet, let me just stop you there. Everything I have read that is current on veganism affirms that one can [relatively, depending on your lifestyle/free time] get the nutrients necessary via plants and the many plant-based products that are readily available (often, in great variety) at stores from Fred Meyer to Whole Foods to Trader Joe's. What I did realize was that, perhaps, this necessitated good planning ahead, and that my schedule, especially at the end of a quarter, does not always allow for that.

Today, I am in the midst of a short period of stepping-back and reassessing the best approach as I move back towards a vegan diet. I am, in some ways, deeply discouraged. As many people starting a new diet, I began this endeavor excited and enthusiastic, trying new recipe after new recipe. Now, it's hit home that the kinds of ingredients (largely beans and legumes) that are the main source of iron, etc. in a vegan diet are ones that many people's bodies are not accustomed to eating at all, let alone 3-4 times per week! So, I'm attempting to take things a little slower in order to eliminate those ingredients that might be problematic for me, personally.

I share all of this because it is a journey that I have largely undertaken privately, but that has impacted me heavily, even before last Monday's disappointments. My conviction about choosing to not eat meat that I know exactly where it has come from is connected to beliefs that have to do with loving my neighbor and doing and giving all that I can to help curb and end world hunger. In my opinion, these are issues that are intertwined, and that cannot be  objectively "prioritized". They all impact one another whether we like it or not, and the move towards this very prioritization is what has exacerbated elements of each over time. By ignoring one, we feel we are alleviating another.

Mainly, I want to say that, for me, human and animal "issues" are not ones that can be isolated from each other, as much as we try to do so in order to justify our abuse (in either direction, if we think about who works in places like factory farms, or in the pet industry). So I sit here, typing this ridiculously long post, to say that that belief in my life leads me into a transition to a dairy- and egg-free, mostly meat- and fish-free, way of eating. You may think I'm crazy, but hopefully after reading this, you at least understand a bit better why I'm doing it. And if you don't, I'd love to talk more about it with you sometime.

Ready to be back to normal

So far, 2017 has been quite the struggle as I have been sick to some degree since around January 10th. Jonathan, too, has been battling colds, runny noses and coughs. This past week has hit me the hardest, and I haven't been able to care for him. If it weren't for my mom and my mother-in-law, I really am not sure how things would have played out. Michael was out of town until Wednesday morning, and while that is good in that he didn't also get sick, it makes the time alone at home with Jonathan harder when sick. Today I am struggling with what so many of the contestants on a show I enjoy, The Biggest Loser, do: letting someone else take care of the ones you love so that you can get back to 100%. I have hardly been able to sleep, and the coughing has rubbed my throat and mouth raw, making the process of recovery painful. I know many people out there are dealing with much more pain and illnesses more serious, but after 6 weeks of not feeling myself, 4 days out of 5 not being able to teach, and not being able to care for my son (who is also sick and miserable), I am ready to start moving forward to more positive moments.

Tomorrow, 30. Today, a little reminiscing on 20.

I turn 30 years old tomorrow. What a weird thing, to change decades. Most of us only do this, what, 8, maybe 9 times in our lives. So I feel it is a good thing to take the opportunity to reflect on the last decade.

This time 10 years ago, I was in France. I was actually in London for the weekend of my actual birthday that year, since a friend I'd met at Whitworth was studying abroad there the same year I was in Lille. Katie showed me around town and we had a great time...and lots of beverages, I guess! One of the perks of studying abroad the year I did was that the legal drinking age in Europe is generally 18 years old, if not 16. But turning 20 was still a special thing. Here is a photo of myself and my roommates, Heather and Claire-lise, when we went out to moules-frites before I went away for the weekend:

Here are some of the photos showing just a few of the drinks Katie and I shared while I visited her in London...

While in London, I also managed to meet up with a woman who I'd met years before in Austria, Danuta. Of course, we had a drink, too!

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, though it is a bit sad to leave my 20's behind. I look forward to what the next decade has in store!

JDB update! (15 and a half months)

Since leaving Facebook, I have been told by many that they miss seeing posts of Jonathan and updates about him (it seems it was why most people were still "friends" with me! 😂). I am still not interested in reactivating my account at this time, so I've decided to make an effort to post more, shorter blogs with photos and information about how he's growing and what he's up to.

The past few weeks, he has been learning many new things. In just the past few days, he's said "minion" and "tractor" for the first time, and seems to be on the brink of many other new words. (Up to now, "mama/maman/mum", "dada/papa/baba" and "ha=hot" have been his main words.) It's amazing to watch his little wheels turn as he processes language and begins to make those connections. Since I only speak in French to him, we are very curious to see how the two languages emerge.

Jonathan LOVES being outside! He is a diligent little worker with his daddy, usually walking around with a screwdriver or tiny hammer with which he periodically pounds the grass or gravel. He also enjoys the snow, although the wet stuff we had yesterday and the fact that I'd left all of his boots at Grandma's didn't make for a very long playtime, and he quickly was over it. Here are a couple photos and a video from his recent times outside.

He also loves music! He has a small guitar that perhaps in a few years he can actually play like you are "supposed" to. For now, he has become a very good strummer while the guitar sits flat in our living room. He loves to listen and watch Michael play his guitar. This week, Jonathan has also started "playing" piano "by himself". He does seem to have a pretty good grasp on how it's supposed to look, and he loves to adjust the settings on my keyboard. This week, he even figured out how the volume works and enjoys turning it all the way down and all the way up as he tests that it is still working as he thinks it does! Here's a video to prove it.

Jonathan continues to laugh and smile often (and make us do the same), which is a mercy, as he has entered the whiny toddler stage recently! Despite this, I would still say that the best way to describe him would be extremely curious and joy-filled. I will do my best to continue to post updates regularly.

When hate has hit home, how do we respond?

I have not written a blog entry for a long time, as my mind and heart have been constantly troubled and baffled by the events of past months. Two weeks ago, I left Facebook due to the influx of negative and unproductive posting coming from both “sides” that seem ever at odds over every real and important issue plaguing our country and government in the wake of an election that wreaked havoc on decency and respect – from both candidates. This post is not, however, to discuss or share my thoughts on President Trump and why he is or is not going to do “good” for this country. After all, 4 years lie ahead before that declaration can be truly made. I deeply hope and have been praying that the type of decisions his rhetoric throughout the campaign and immediately following his elections seemed to point to are tempered by time, thought, the other individuals now working with him (or against him, depending on their stance, but all supposedly "for country"), and last, but not least, the people who are using their voices and their presence to show which issues matter to them. But these issues are not what I want this post to focus on.

Today I am writing because a colleague and friend has been the direct target of hate speech and threats. Two weeks ago tomorrow, peaceful protests were held in response to the presence of an extremist, openly racist and homophobe speaker on the campus where I work. The president of the university stated that this individual was allowed to come (despite rampant threats from both sides, and a history of violence following or directly related to his speeches) due to the fact that our campus allows free speech. At the time, I thought it was logical, and perhaps it should stand as such. What is unfortunate is that this individual’s speeches, given under the guise of “free speech”, have almost without exception incited some form of hate speech or violence on specific individuals whose personal information and identity was stalked and shared through social media or by being physically followed. This kind of behavior is unacceptable. The kind of disrespect and violence associated with the individual who is indirectly responsible for the harm threatened to my colleague has no business in a country apparently trying to get back to a place of bipartisan dialogue that at least attempts to hear out the other side before stating their point of view. 

On the other hand, one might say why can't both sides just shut up and deal with it. Well, because in situations like this, where one party is clearly already at a disadvantage because they are a minority by race, sex, or literal number, both sides are not equal from the start at all. "Shut up and deal with it" should imply that both sides are at an equal ad- or disadvantage, have shared their views on whatever topic is in question, and continue to disagree with no clear exit. In this case, sure, shut up and agree to disagree. But my colleague's case is in no way this latter type of scenario. He was stalked in person and online and made to feel as though he couldn't come to teach his own class without worrying for his safety. This isn't free speech in action, but hate speech and just plain hate.  

My friend is one of the most vibrant, caring, and promising colleagues that I have the pleasure of knowing. He is an exceptional teacher, and has taught multiple foreign language courses and literature classes. He tirelessly seeks to provide safe spaces for productive discussions about major issues, political and social. His laugh is infectious, and he loves deeply. I have an unending admiration for his work ethic and the fact that he never seems to know enough about a given subject – sometimes his tenaciousness is even a bit outlandish, but that is what makes him himself. I have never, ever, known him to shy away from being himself, and he ever encourages those around him to do the same while respecting the rich variety of beliefs and realities with which we are all surrounded in this wild era in history. He and I wouldn't agree on everything, but he is someone I would debate hot issues with, because I know he would have checked his facts and be seeking the "best good" in that discussion. The kind of atmosphere he seeks to create wherever he goes is one that I think we can all learn from and our country desperately needs. 

Speak out and reach out. Be kind. Find something positive to focus on, even if just for a few minutes a day. The hate is either exhausting or like a drug - the former gets old and we more easily let go of it, while the latter is addictive and poisonous. Let us choose fatigue of hate so that it can give way to love. Because LOVE WINS EVERY TIME. And if others are to hear and believe this, it starts with us. Michael Jackson was right: it's the man in the mirror that we need to start with, and it needs to happen today!

Two things to hold

It's a rainy, grey day and I look a mess. No time to put on anything but mascara and my hair is already coming out of the pins I used to try to keep it out of my face. A new neighbor cat thought today was a good day to start claiming our front stoop, and so he peed on one of the two new bags of cloth diapers that had just been delivered. In the short drive to drop off Jonathan to his grandma's, I saw no less than 10 drivers do totally ridiculous and dangerous things. And the bus I'm now on sounds like it's middle is about rusted off its hinges, so it will be interesting to see how that plays out.

All of this is of course to establish that my mood has often better. It is also, however, to preface an explanation of one of the things I believe that as humans - and even more so, as Christians - we will and should grapple with most of the days of our lives: How do we see all of the frustration, pain and evil that should be evident to us each day and still remain hopeful - even joyful? 

I personally believe that we should strive to "hold" both things (in our minds or awareness: choose not to ignore one to the deficit of the other) as much of the time as possible. Not because we should dwell on the yucky stuff in the world, but because it should be the motivating factor - the fire under our asses, so-to-speak - behind a hope that we CAN make the world a better place, and a subsequent adjustment to our actions. 

My work forces me to think and read constantly about animal ethics. If you read more than a few pages in any book that addresses the topic, you will come across some degree of discussion about the horrors of factory farming and/or animal experimentation. (Unless it is a 100% philosophical work, in which case these issues are not always a constant focus.) I don't want to get into those topics here, but only use the fact that I am often thinking about them to bring up the way that this holding, this balancing of the awareness of evil and our attempting to at least not aggravate it, it reaches every aspect of our lives down to the food you choose to put in your (and your children and pets') mouth.

Knowing that God made this world and that at any moment could choose to eradicate all evil, or just everything and everyone, the whole deal, is what I am trying to cling to as I constantly push back on a feeling of help- and hopelessness when I have a day like today, see how so many people act based only on anger and emotions (=mot considering others' contexts, only thinking of how X action affects me in an inconvenient way), or just simply think about the fact that I have a 200-250 page dissertation to write! He COULD fix it, if He wanted to. He's GOD. So why waste any length of time wallowing? Does it stop the cat marking his territory, or the idiot who absolutely cannot drive just 10 mph over, and also won't suffer through the hardship of establishing his lane and getting over more than 50 feet before his exit? Nope. All I can do is clean up the pee and focus on driving safely. We can't do life for other people or animals. Our society is so focused on do-it-yourself and finding the right solution to your problems, that we've completely lost the plot on the fact that some things are not perfect, and that that is just fine. We should strive to be kind, to respect and love each other, and to think critically about where the things we eat, wear and use might have come from. 

These thoughts are a bit jumbled, but I urge you today to stop worrying about why things or people suck so badly - most of the time it accomplishes absolutely nothing! Let's try to make the world better, let's hold on to hope without losing sight of the reason we need to.

An ode to the real 4.0 student

This week is finals week of my first quarter back since Jonathan was born. I chose to TA for a class on Rome, as it only required me to be on campus 3 days per week, and it's been a great experience thus far. However, thanks to a  few students, I am feeling stretched and poked like a mound of Play Doh (sp??). 

I am quite aware that in many cases where there is a stricter grader and a more generous grader, I will be the former. It seems to me that a student who receives an A should be anything but complacent, and that that grade is for those who have pushed themselves continuously in a course. A 4.0/100% should only be given when exceptional work has been done, as it implies perfection. Unfortunately, we work and study in a time and a country where students often expect to be given a passing grade (read=A) just for showing up and doing a decent job on most of the assigned work. That a teacher would demand consistent study, practice and punctuality in turning in work seems to be a totally abstract concept for many. I'm sorry for this rant, but some of the experiences that my colleagues and myself have had are simply laughable, and continue to confirm the reality that many American students (the international students are usually more open to adapting to regular expectations if they aren't already conditioned to them) expect to be given the grade that they want just for occupying a desk in the university of their choice. 

So, back to me being the strict grader. I am currently dealing with multiple students who think my grades are unfair and several of whom have gone to the professor about it. Now, let me say that this is the first "content course" I have TAd for in 7 years of teaching, and that I, too, had a very steep learning curve as to how to grade essays, in particular. The students had two papers due over the course of the quarter. The first paper took me at least 14 hours to grade, probably more. The amount of basic spelling, grammar and syntax errors was staggering, and, I do admit, may well have caused me to mark some grades down lower than I would have otherwise. Having said this, 15 years ago, that kind of marking down would have been normal practice, I'm quite sure. I was under the impression that part of writing a good paper requires that the reader not have to parse and reorder your clauses, words and letters themselves in order to understand your points, but that's just my humble opinion, and one with which roughly 65% of my students in this course would apparently disagree. I gathered this from the death glares that I received from many otherwise upbeat individuals upon receiving the graded essays. Shockingly, most of the students most upset rarely spoke in class, and don't seem particularly concerned with whether or not they make it to lecture on a regular basis. 

All of this is to demonstrate my reasons for being extremely irritated with the fact that I now am spending valuable time during my weekend and time off trying to make a few average students feel better about themselves by pretending that a book report is an acceptable 4.0 essay and that it's all my fault if they don't get the grade they "need". Now, I'm aware that, apparently, the other two TAs' averages were slightly higher than mine, but I didn't receive specifics and this was something a student shared with me to bolster her argument for more points. It's very possible that their averages are higher, in which case the professor wants us all to adjust our median/curve. Either way, the students complaining are not turning in work that consistently demonstrates attention to detail and some attempt at excellence. I understand not every student is capable of excelling in every course they take, as we are all extremely different in our skills and interests. Isn't that what studying is for? Or a B or C grade? I had a horrible time getting passing grades in a handful of Gen Eds in undergrad, and I'm sure I complained...but I DID THE WORK! 

This, then, is my ode to the students in my class who did receive 4.0's (I DID give several out, along with several other A grades!) and most of whom pursued their questions by getting in touch with me during class or otherwise. Great students are far too often hard to distinguish from the pack of average ones in our current culture of grade inflation, and that is just not fair. This inflation isn't fair for the great students (duh), but it's also unfair for their teachers who are faced with either giving in to or engaging in ridiculous debates with the average/disatisfied students. It is actually NOT true that everyone deserves to succeed identically in every area, and tgis should be a source of richness in a society, because it should allow those that do excel to be recognized for it. What everyone DOES deserve is to succeed at the thing they were made to succeed at. The American Dream didn't start out as the idea that an Italian who was a wizard with pasta should come to America because there he could be a world-famous shoe-maker, or that a French breadmaker could come be a good blacksmith. It was the idea that you should be able to succeed in the area you were made for. First you have to find out what that is, and that requires much trial and error. Many students in US colleges and universities today live as if all you need to do to be successful at something is to check the box next to it for your major.

I'm trying to end this in a cool way but it just keeps going on, so I will just stop! Can we just all be okay with not being the best at everything??

Growing faster all the time

Our little boy is growing up so fast! In just the past day he has learned how to turn pages in his books and really hug me when he came home from Grandma's yesterday. It is just unbelievable how much he learns all the time now! 

We are blessed that he continues to sleep well and has started eating some banana without any issues. I have had to ask for a lot of extra support the past couple of weeks due to the build-up of stress and fatigue, but that is a good thing to learn how to do. I wake up each day incredibly grateful for the time and energy both Michael's and my family put in to help care for and love Jonathan! 

Baby Jonathan becoming more of a little person with each passing day

It's amazing how fast this little boy is growing. In the past week, he has found his hands in earnest, squeals and laughes (and screams) more when we play, and has started looking out the window from the carseat (photo here). As he has begun teething, he's making new faces while he chews on his gums, like a man without dentures in. He continues to sleep through the night, for now, which is of course a huge blessing as it allows me to get a few things done! He seems to love spending time with both Michael's and my mom (and dads, when they are around!) and I am slowly adjusting to being okay with being away part time for work.

Work has, not surprisingly, been one of the most challenging adjustments for our family. As I said, Jonathan generally does great. I, on the other hand, have to work to actually "be" at work. Yesterday was the first time I stayed to do more than just eat, pump or last-minute prep at my office...and the world didn't end! I still feel guilty if I'm gone for too long, but at least my work isn't too far away and so my time gone is relatively maximized. 

We are so lucky to be Jonathan's parents. It is still very hard to believe that we are a mom and dad, and that puts new pressures on our relationship, but we are all healthy and doing our best!

After the storms

It's amazing how the longest and most draining days are sometimes followed by a sharpened sense of clarity and calm. It is comparable, perhaps, to the moments following crisis and disaster: whether manifest in a literal quiet or an internal calm, it seems many accounts of survivors of environmental (earthquakes, massive storms) and emotional (divorce, loss) describe this feeling. 

My "storms" have been small, but frequent these past three months since Jonathan was born. A week ago, I became weighed down by an intense feeling of what I think I will call despair. I won't go into too much detail, but I despaired over the person I had allowed myself to become much of the time for my husband. (Meaning how I acted when I was around him, away from others.) Of course it also reached into other areas of my life, but he received the brunt of an intense negativity that usually refused even the tenderest of efforts to be consoled. A week ago, I decided to turn that negativity around for good. 

Cue one of the most frustrating and challenging weeks I've had since Jonathan's birth. It has been moment after moment of acute awareness of a very real enemy who opposes our joy and peace on this earth and wants to wear us down by throwing challenge after challenge our way. From the most benign annoyance (a schedule change in my childcare for the first time since returning to work, but NOT a lack of it) to the relatively serious (water leaking through the light fixture in the nursery, prompting the necessity to replace our roof), I have truly felt that enemy taunting my decision to be more positive. 

I am sad to say that several times, he succeeded in getting me down. But never was I ignorant to exactly what was happening, and that the process of becoming more positive in all circumstances will certainly require "real world training"! This, in itself, this awareness of the opportunity we have to learn from each situation no matter our actual reaction (i.e. whether it was the reaction we'd hoped we would have or not!), has me sitting in one of these quiet moments this morning. I am weary, and I am not always positive, but I still want to keep trying to be and that, in my opinion, is right where God wants us to be! While we should seek to learn all we can from past situations, all we can control is how we react to the next one. 

May you find a moment of peace and quiet today, no matter how big or small the storm you have just been through.

A momentary reflection

There are about 1,000 things that I should be doing at this moment. I should be editing my prospectus, reading for the course I'm TAing for next quarter, prepping dinner, making my Christmas card list, pumping breastmilk...really any number of areas of my life need attention. But the fact of the matter is, my time is mostly taken up by this amazing, perfect little human being that entered my life 7 weeks ago, so the things that I should be doing in a normal life often get pushed aside for a diaper change, nursing, or, more and more often, playtime and facetime. So in this moment, I am staring at my son napping, a beautiful little Christmas tree all lit up (our first ever), and a candle flame is waving back at me. I am so filled with gratitude for so many things right now: our families - our mothers in particular, who have been by my side almost daily since Jonathan's birth, our home, our jobs, and our healthy baby boy. Anyone who knows me well would probably not peg me for the peaceful type, and I tend to overstress and worry about way more than I need to. But, in this moment, I am trying to focus on gratitude and the amazing things God has blessed me with.

Many people call this their favorite time of the year. I must admit that it certainly warms my heart, the idea of this Christmas season. However, I feel that so much of the true sentiment of it has been lost and scattered as our culture has begun to hold tighter to things than to experiences, people, and all the wonderful moments that come with just living. For many, this time of year brings back pain as it reminds them of those who have passed on, or relationships that have been broken. In the movies, these broken relationships are mended in perfectly-timed, heartfelt meetings and unanticipated moments of forgiveness and grace. But all too often, in real life, we remain as hardhearted towards one another as Scrooge is at the beginning of that Christmas tale we have all heard, and those relationships remain broken. I hope that we can let go of some of our things and grab on to some of the love that gets lost in all the plastic, electric, lit-upness of those things. May we strive and aspire to those Hollywood moments, even as they are rarely as simple or easy as they are portrayed on the silver screen. Let us seek to love one another and remember that this time began as a celebration of the life of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who dared enter this earthly world a helpless, innocent baby in order to save the souls of all those who loved and hated him. Hallelujah, Christ is born!

A eulogy for Larry (part-cat, part-dog, part-bird)

Remembering Larry

Most of you will already know that Michael and I had to put Larry, our third cat, down on Monday evening. He had been hit by a car and it broke his pelvis and spine, disabling his two back legs. We are so fortunate and thankful for several things, though we are utterly saddened by this loss. First, we are glad to have both been home when he went into distress (he'd been hit a short time before we realized it, and just lounging outside while Michael worked, since we assume he wasn't really in pain and just couldn't feel his legs). All I had to do when Michael brought him in and we saw the blood on the floor and heard his confused yowling as he tried to get onto his legs was turn the oven off before we were able to get out the door. Secondly, we are just about 5 minutes away from a 24-hour emergency vet hospital, and since it was 7:30pm on a Monday, the place was nearly deserted and we didn't have to wait at all for them to see him. The staff were extremely gracious and forthcoming about the financial side of things as well as their guess as to what was wrong with him, giving us only clear and understandable information and being patient with our questions. Finally, we were relieved that the vet who examined Larry was able to tell with her preliminary exam the extent of the damage. It allowed us to know what the right decision was. Had we chosen to try to have his fractured back end surgically repaired, he would have had a long and painful road to recovery ahead (at least 6-8 weeks) and even then no guarantee of being back to 100%. Even had he been back to 100% after that, there's no telling that he wouldn't have gone out on his first day back outside and had another driver hit him. During recovery, he would have hated having to stay inside, and with the baby being around along with the other two cats, it would have been extra-challenging for everyone. 

The vet has special rooms where the lighting isn't as bright and where families can be more comfortable for situations where an animal is being put down. We were able to spend a few minutes with Larry before she came in to administer the euthanasia, and he was not in any pain as they had given him a catheter and some pain medicine. He was himself until the very end, though we could tell he was very confused as to why his legs were no longer carrying him. As those of you who have had to put down pets yourselves know, the end was quick and painless. Both the cats that I grew up with were put down while I was away at college, so I had never experienced this before and it was almost unbearable, though of course I wouldn't have chosen to not be there with Larry. 

We buried Larry underneath the spot next to our front hedge where he began napping for large parts of the day a few months ago. The huge amount of rocks that Michael had to pull out and dig through to get the hole deep enough for him now provide him shelter from the wind and rain that he so disliked, despite his love of being outdoors. We hope to find a perennial to plant inside of the rock "wall" to further commemorate this amazing animal.

Larry came into our lives only days after we found out that we were expecting a baby. He wandered up to Michael while he was working at his parents' house in North Lynnwood, and never stopped following him around. He followed him right inside, back out and into my father-in-law's van where Michael was organizing. When Michael texted me that day to ask if I wanted another cat, my answer was, of course, a pretty resilient NO. He brought him home anyway, and quickly and efficiently charmed his way into my heart. While his arrival was quite the shock for our other two cats, at least Mater warmed enough to him over time that, since late spring, the two of them had a tenuously functional relationship closely resembling that of a middle school romance. They would play, though both were very stand-offish; Larry because Mater was several pounds heavier than him and Mater because she never really wanted to admit she didn't hate him, I assume. Taffy, on the other hand, never warmed and was stressed constantly while Larry was around. Once he knew he could get a rise out of her (and that she wasn't going to fight back if he harassed her), of course he did so as often as he could. So, all of this to say that the chaos that entered our lives with Larry gave us, for about 9 months, a bizarre introduction to that of a child. While we are very aware that three cats and the crazy dynamics that brings is nothing at all like bringing home an infant for the first time, Larry forced us to solve many problems we never would have had to otherwise, and to navigate some strange new dynamics and situations with the other two felines that have shared our home for the past four years. 

Michael and I strongly believe that God's hand was heavy in this event, and that Larry was meant to be with us throughout this pregnancy, but no further. His arrival at the time we found out I was pregnant and his departure (or return home to God) the day before any real contractions began for me bring us peace in this. As I said, we are simply beside ourselves after the loss of this little prince, and in many ways find ourselves wondering how we will go on. The tears have been abundant, as memories of him are all around and we both keep expecting him to come prancing in the door when we open it. But we know that anytime now, a new little prince will be entering our lives and that the Lord knew that, for whatever reason, Larry didn't quite fit into that equation. Michael and I continue to trust in His provision and are grateful to have had such a rich 9 months with the strangest, most delightful animal that either of us have ever met (and likely ever will meet). The animal that we always called "part-cat, part-dog" and that my dad recently dubbed "a bird in a cat-suit" is simply irreplaceable, and the hole he has left in our hearts and our home is huge. 

Larry, we love you and words cannot express how much you are already missed. You were a companion unmatched for Michael during his projects and time in the yard and garage, and brought me much joy and laughter as you played and lived life at such a high speed. We can't believe that we were lucky enough to love you, but are so grateful that we did. May you rest in peace as you have come home to a place where you can run outdoors for eternity without ever getting hurt.

Some photos of Larry:

This photo was taken either the first or second day that Larry was part of our household. I was still skeptical of having a third cat, but that face was indeed hard to resist. Like Mater and Taffy, Larry loved looking out the window from this vantage point on top of my desk, but if it was dark, he'd settle for a stare-down with me, too.

Larry loved messing about in our bathtub. Here he is actually bathing himself while in the tub, but his favorite thing to do was to sit on the side while I was having a bubble bath. He would dip his paw in the water and pull out some bubbles (the lavender flavor didn't seem to bother him) before cleaning it meticulously. Ironically, he hated getting bathed and the rain...

Anytime anyone was outside, Larry loved to be with them, if only for a few minutes at a time. Him & Michael spent hours together in the yard and garage, but here I was the lucky benefactor of his curiosity on a rare day I read outside in the sun last spring.

Rarely did Larry stop moving when he was inside the house, let alone to cuddle like this. (He did cuddle a lot with Michael in the garage, but was so easily wound up in the house by the two other cats being around that he never seemed to calm down in here!) I think he only sat with me for about 5 minutes here, but he was digging it while he did. I find it slightly ironic that I was reading "Black Skin, White Masks" here...

No caption needed here...Larry didn't beg too often, since he was often running about or in his kitty tower during mealtime, but he was just as much of an opportunist as the next cat! Here, the guitar case gave him an extra-special vantage point.

He was not a happy camper when we took this photo, but Larry did enjoy watching tv (sports or otherwise) with us. The look on Michael's face only shows about half of the amount of love he had for this cat; I loved Larry, too, but those two were the best of friends. May that little bundle of energy rest in peace where he lies in our front drive and frolic to his heart's content in Heaven. Our home will never be the same without him!